


Dirty When You Talk

by jdmcool



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Incest, Kink Meme, M/M, No Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-26
Updated: 2012-04-26
Packaged: 2017-11-04 08:30:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/391829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdmcool/pseuds/jdmcool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock allows himself to be distracted in the middle of a case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty When You Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this [prompt](http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/18842.html?thread=113841562#t113841562) at the Sherlock BBC Kink Meme. Copious amounts of teasing, no sex.

The moment his phone went off, Sherlock rolled his eyes and grabbed for it. He didn’t know who it was that was calling him in the middle of a case, though he had a fairly good idea.

“What is it you want?”

“You.”

Sherlock’s breath hitched at the simple answer. Glancing around, he settled when he found what it was he was after. Of course, that didn’t do anything to stop the way John was suddenly looking at him, worry written all over his face. The last thing they needed was a killer winding up with his number once again.

“Sherlock, who is it?” John asked, keeping his voice politely lowered.

He waved his hand dismissively at the other man. He couldn’t deal with any distractions when it came to the call that was distracting him from his case. “I’m in the middle of a case. I hardly have time to talk to you.”

“Oh, I know. Standing outside that shop, John looking rather concerned. You should do something about that, Sherlock.”

“John,” he whispered harshly. “That building across the street. I need you to check it out.”

“Right. Keep them talking,” he said before dashing off.

Watching as the man made his way to the empty building, Sherlock waited until the he went inside. When he was certain that he was going to be alone for some time he asked harshly, “Where are you? In your office?” 

Mycroft let out a soft chuckle, making Sherlock shiver slightly in the process. “I’m where you should be, dear brother of mine: lying in your bed.”

Swallowing to wet his suddenly dry mouth, he glanced back at the CCTV camera before walking off. He knew it would follow him as he made his way to the alley, leaning against the side of the building so that he could have some privacy without risking moving out of Mycroft’s line of sight.

“In my room and controlling the CCTV? Is there something you’d like to tell me, Mycroft?”

His brother let out a disapproving noise, although Sherlock could practically hear him smiling on the other end. “You’re so very hard to surprise, you know that? I wore my best suit for you, after all. The black—“

“Pinstripe one, yes yes. It is your favourite, it would seem.”

“I can always hang up, if you’d prefer.”

“No,” he said, body jerking toward the camera as though that would have any bearing on whether or not Mycroft left Baker Street before he returned. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head. “Don’t hang up.”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence on the other end. Checking his phone to make sure that the conversation hadn’t ended, he frowned at the camera, trying to resist the urge to ask his brother to keep talking. To say anything at all. Honestly, it was probably better if Mycroft did hang up, as he’d be allowed to get back to his case.

“Perhaps that’s true,” Mycroft said, simply knowing what Sherlock had been thinking. “I should leave you to your case so that you might get back here sooner. Especially since John’s going to be out tonight.”

“I didn’t know your people doubled as escorts.”

“I’d simply hate for him to interrupt what I have planned for you, brother of mine.”

Shifting to get a bit more comfortable, as he certainly didn’t need to accommodate the interest his cock had begun to take in the conversation, Sherlock nodded. “And what would that be?”

“Let’s call it an experiment.”

Each word sounded like pure filth as Mycroft lowered his voice. To most it might sound like a threat, but Sherlock knew that his brother didn’t make threats, he made promises. And he was only too eager to hear what it was that his brother had in mind.

“I think I may start by exploring inch of you. Strip you out of that ridiculously ill-fitting shirt and those trousers. Not your pants, though,” he started in an almost conversational tone. The fact that other people didn’t make such delicious comments to their siblings didn’t matter. They were never like most people. “No, I rather think I’d prefer to take in the way they stretch across the erection you’ll have by then. The one you’re dying to touch right now because you do so enjoy this, don’t you? Listening to my plans?”

“Yes,” Sherlock breathed. Closing his eyes, relishing the feel of the edge of his phone digging into his fingers, he took a deep breath.

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t leave you in your pants long. Just long enough drag my finger up your length, run it along the head of your prick until it was twitching helplessly. Consider it a preview of what I intend to do next.”

He shifted restlessly again, his free hand idly adjusting himself in his trousers. It served nothing to fuel the fires, as he cock took that as an offer, suddenly so very eager for another touch. Glancing over his shoulder to look down the rather empty street, Sherlock calculated how long it would take for John to get back and the odds of getting caught.

“Touch yourself and I’ll hang up,” Mycroft ordered.

Shooting a dirty glance at the camera, Sherlock clenched his jaw as he let his head fall back against the wall with a heavy thud. Annoyed, he balled his empty hand in his pocket in an effort to remove temptation.

“Good. Now where was I?” He asked, cluelessly. As though the man ever forgot anything.

“Teasing me about teasing me? Maybe I should be the one hanging up.”

It was a hollow threat and the other man knew it, judging by the way he only chuckled once again. The husky sound of amusement making Sherlock almost consider putting off the case for just an hour or two. Long enough for him to go to Baker Street and let Mycroft have his way. After all, the person had only killed the woman because of a close emotional bond, a temptation Sherlock understood all too well.

“I think I’ll have you on your bed. You lying on the bed, spread out like the most appetizing of meals. I believe the removal of my jacket will be necessary by then. If only to roll up my sleeves.”

“Getting down to business then?”

Mycroft gave a hum of approval at that. “Of course, I can’t have you interrupting my hard work.”

“I have handcuffs,” he offered. It wasn’t necessary since Mycroft knew about everything in his room and where it was kept. It was simply the sympathetic ache developing in his wrists that led to his outburst.

“I think I’ll have you control yourself. Should be easy enough when I inspect you, carefully work my hands down your body. Thumbs brushing across your nipples as I make my way down your chest. A finger dragging along your navel. Nails catching on the skin of your inner thighs, bypassing where you want my hands most since I can’t get distracted, can I?”

Sherlock shook his head frantically. He wasn’t sure if he was agreeing with his brother or trying to let him know how very wrong he was the only way he could since he knew that if he tried to speak a moan would likely be the first thing to slip out his mouth. It didn’t even matter that he was standing in broad daylight, trying to control himself for the sake of a camera and a phone call. If this was how Mycroft wanted to give his attention, no matter how purposely inconvenient, Sherlock would play along.

“If you’re good, I’ll be nicer when I make my way back up with my mouth. Bury my nose into the crook of you thigh as I leave bite marks where only I’ll ever see, stroke your long neglected prick gentle and slow, just how you loathe.”

“You’re a tease,” Sherlock said, voice wavering slightly.

“I won’t miss one inch of you, brother of mine. I’ll make sure to taste every inch. Especially when you spread your legs, begging for more of something you can’t quite name. Not that you’ll have to. I understand you. That and I do so love the broken noise you’ll make when I go from sucking your prick to suckling at your balls.”

Oh and wasn’t that just the perfect thought. Clenching and unclenching his fist, Sherlock tried to ignore the way said body part was already twitching, becoming all the more eager with each filthy promise. It was then that Mycroft paused, the slow exhale of breath telling Sherlock that he wasn’t the only one enjoying the conversation.

“You’ll be biting down on your lip like you always do, hands fisted in the bed sheets to keep them out of my hair. I promise to get bored with your self-control before it snaps, though. You won’t do much more than gasp when your feel my tongue circling around your hole, gaps like a dying man as you dig your heels into the bed and fist your hands into my hair.”

“Mycroft,” he practically moaned, all thoughts of the world around him fading to the background.

“From there, well, it would be rather obvious. Feel you become a quivering mess from nothing more than my tongue before using my fingers. One, at first, just to frustrate you further A second to get the job done, and then a third because I want to watch you Sherlock. I want to watch you fuck yourself on my fingers because you’re desperate and even that great mind of yours won’t be of any use in finding your release. I know you’ll whimper when I remove them, but what sound will you make when I simply unzip my trousers and thrust into you?”

“You’re not stripping.”

He didn’t even bother to pose it as a question, the vision playing in his head painting the perfect image of his brother in that matching black waist coat, red tie begging to be wrapped around his fingers so that he could pull the other into a searing kiss.

“Do you care?”

Shaking his head, Sherlock closed his eyes as he bit into his lip to silence the multitude of little groans that wanted to spill forth. “No. I don’t. Just don’t stop, please. I need... Mycroft, I need to...”

“I know exactly what you need. Mmm. Slowly entering you, gripping your hips because you’re so impatient and I love leaving those hand shaped bruises. You make it so much easier to imagine when you’re already squirming. Chest heaving as you try to control yourself in an alley. Perhaps one day I should take you in one.”

“Please, Mycroft. Finish it,” he pleaded.

“John’s coming.”

“I thought you said he would be out all night?”

His question was met with a soft chuckle and the other man hanging up the phone. Leaning against the wall, he stared at the camera, confused when it went from focusing on him to focusing on someone else. Following its gaze, he gave a frustrated sigh when he saw John rushing over.

“Sherlock, I didn’t... Are you alright?”

Nodding, he pushed himself off the wall as he shoved his other hand in his jacket pocket as well, trying his best to subtly hide the erection straining the front of his trousers. The last thing he needed was for John to question just what kind of call he’d been having. Clearing his throat, he glanced at the camera before focusing on his friend.

“Find anything in the building?”

“No. Who was calling you?”

“Someone trying to get to me. Now come on. We have to solve this case quickly,” he said.

And if his voice came out as more of a frustrated growl than usual, well, John didn’t make any mention of it which was for the better. The fewer questions asked the less time he’d have to focus on anything that wasn’t solving the case and getting back to Baker’s Street as quickly as possible.


End file.
